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Palaces, Pavilions and Pleasure-gardens:

The context and setting of the medieval
majlis
DOMINIC P. BROOKSHAW
Published online: 09 Jun 2010.
To cite this article: DOMINIC P. BROOKSHAW (2003) Palaces, Pavilions and Pleasure-gardens:
The context and setting of the medieval majlis, Middle Eastern Literatures, 6:2, 199-223, DOI:
10.1080/14752620306890
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14752620306890
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Middle Eastern Literatures, Vol. 6, No. 2, July 2003
Palaces, Pavilions and Pleasure-gardens: the context

and setting of the medieval majlis
DOMINIC P. BROOKSHAW
Abstract
Downloaded by [Eindhoven Technical University] at 09:15 19 October 2014
The performance context of medieval Arabic and Persian lyric poetry has yet to receive
sufficient scholarly attention. This paper attempts to reconstruct the physical context of
medieval Islamic poetic performance and (to a lesser extent) the social setting and
human dynamics of such gatherings, with a view to enabling modern-day readers to
better appreciate how contemporary audiences enjoyed and understood lyric poetry.
This article focuses on the convivial majlis, the primary performance context for lyric
poetry in both Abbāsid Baghdad and medieval Iran (c.1000–1450), two key milieux in
which lyric poetry flourished. Information on majālis at which poetry was performed is
scattered through a variety of medieval Arabic and Persian prose sources (primarily
works of adab and histories), and is largely anecdotal. The poetry itself, insofar as it
reflects the context in which it was performed, is also a valuable source of information
which can aid our understanding of the medieval majlis. Reference has also been made
to art historical studies inasmuch as they provide material evidence to further illustrate
what is found in the written sources.
1. The majlis as Performance Context

The term majlis (pl. majālis) denotes both an assembly or meeting hosted by a caliph,
king, high official, prominent merchant, scholar or poet, and the audience halls (or
other chambers) where such sessions were held.1 It was largely within the framework of
majālis that much of the intellectual, cultural and social life of medieval Muslims took
place.2 These majālis might be scholarly meetings where questions of law, jurisprudence
or doctrine were debated (majlis al-munāz ara or mujādala),3 or less formal, convivial
gatherings (in Arabic, majlis al-uns, majlis al-sharāb, majlis al-shurb; in Persian also
anjuman, majlis-i ishrat, majlis-i bazm, nashāt-i sharāb, aysh u nūsh, mah fil, mihmānı̄) at
which guests drank wine, consumed sweetmeats, contemplated beauty and, on occa-
sion, danced to the accompaniment provided by poets, singers and musicians. The
convivial majlis was the primary forum for the pursuit of sensuous pleasures in the
Islamic world throughout the medieval period. The 11th-century adı̄b Abū Ish āq
al-H us rı̄ describes the convivial majlis in the following terms:
The majlis: its wine is the ruby, its blossom is the rose, its orange is gold and
its narcissi are dı̄nārs and dirhams carried by chrysolite … a majlis in which the
strings have begun to answer one another and the goblets to rotate; the flags
of intimate fellowship are fluttering and the tongues of the musical instru-
Dominic P. Brookshaw, Oriental Institute, Pusey Lane, Oxford OX1 2LE, UK.
ISSN 1475-262X print/ISSN 1475-2638 online/03/020199-25  2003 Taylor & Francis Ltd
DOI: 10.1080/1366616032000091367
200 D. P. Brookshaw
ments are speaking. We are seated between full moons while the wine cups are
circulating […].4
Typical medieval entertainment consisted of a banquet followed by the performance
of poetry and music to accompany an extended drinking-bout during which partici-
pants might dance, flirt with the wine-servers and play games such as chess or
backgammon.5 This indulgent majlis setting had a direct impact on the style and
content of the poetry performed; as De Bruijn says:
There is no genre of Persian poetry which has been more impregnated by the
atmosphere of these drinking-bouts than the poetry of love. All the elements
which constitute the thematical complex of taghazzul are in one way or
another related to this real background, whether they are meant in a profane
or in a religious sense.6
Such gatherings formed part of the daily routine of rulers and other patrons. The
regularity with which medieval rulers drank wine is mentioned in some of the sources
and gives us an indication as to how often majālis were held and, by implication, how
often poetry and songs were performed at court.7 Both Abbāsid caliphs and Persian
kings surrounded themselves with a carefully selected, usually small band of boon
companions (nudamā, sing. nadı̄m) with whom they would engage regularly in such
entertainment sessions. These nudamā, who were often handpicked and who enjoyed
a privileged status at court, often included the patron’s favourite poets, musicians and
singers.8 It has been suggested that the consumption of wine at these gatherings
facilitated an atmosphere of semi-intimacy, even familiarity between the patron and his
poets,9 although this ‘intimacy’ was often only apparent, and the rules of protocol
governing subordinates’ relations with rulers still applied.10 At formal, courtly majālis
(and, occasionally, at less formal, private gatherings), guests and performers were
expected to keep to their allotted ‘seats’ (or more commonly cushions) throughout.
Positions at the majlis, which would often be dictated by the patron–host, were
generally allotted according to social rank.11 Some participants were seated (e.g.
dignitaries, military officers and musicians),12 while others (e.g. ghulāms and
wine-servers) stood throughout.13
Rulers offered generous rewards to those entertainers who enlivened their gatherings
with their performances and who would praise their virtues in song and verse.14 The
size of the reward (and the manner in which it was bestowed) constituted an important
element of the formal majlis. The anecdotal literature abounds with details of how
much money was awarded, for which poem/song and to whom. Rewards were often
given with much pomp and ceremony; some kings kept at their majālis gold and silver
trays piled high with coins which they dispensed by the fistful. One more intimate
method was to stuff the poet’s mouth with gold coins, precious gems or pearls. Caliphs
and kings made a public display of their generosity; it was vital that the ruler not appear
miserly at court.15 Poets who failed to please their patrons risked forfeiting their
financial rewards and, in more extreme cases, their hard-earned position at court.16 For
aspiring poets, admission to the privileged circle of the courtly majlis was essential, in
that it provided the perfect forum within which they could demonstrate their skill and
solicit patronage.17 The majlis also played a vital role in the dissemination of poems:
scholars commented on them, musicians were inspired by them and listeners spread
their renown.
Convivial majālis were not confined to the caliphal or ruling court; provincial
governors, prominent ministers and wealthy merchants also patronized such gatherings.
Context and Setting of the Medieval majlis 201
Wealthy women also hosted such parties, both for mixed and single-sex audiences.18
Poets also held less formal majālis in their own homes to which they would invite other
poets. For such private (non-courtly) majālis, invitations were issued, often in the form
of florid poems. On occasion, renowned poets competed with each other to compose
the best poetic invitation.19 Some private, small-scale or more intimate gatherings
cannot necessarily be classified as majālis, but they do constitute a significant, if
secondary, performance context for the lyric in both periods.20
2. The Physical Setting: palaces, gardens and kiosks

Caliphal majālis would often be held in the royal palace,21 usually in an audience hall
or assembly room (both often referred to by the term majlis)22 with poets and musicians
performing in turn before the ruler seated on his throne and his courtiers, who were
arranged according to rank.23 Umayyad and (especially) Abbāsid caliphs were often
veiled from the rest of the court by a curtain guarded by the sāh ib al-sitr, who would
introduce the performers to the caliph and channel his requests to them, a practice
evocative of Sāsānian court ritual.24 Reception halls were standard features of palace
architecture;25 the Abbāsid caliphs were not restricted in their choice of audience halls:
each palace seems to have had more than one such a hall, as did other royal buildings.26
The majālis of Sāmarran palaces were often grouped together and sometimes con-
structed in a single cruciform-shaped group.27 Some medieval audience halls were on
a grand scale, while others were purpose-built for more intimate activities.28 Most, if
not all, Abbāsid audience halls appear to have been domed, perhaps for acoustic
reasons, a feature possibly inherited from Sāsānian palace architecture.29 Audience halls
were frequently elevated above the ground30 and often overlooked a river or lake,31
presumably to provide a pleasant view, cleaner air and a more secluded atmosphere for
the ruler’s entertainment sessions. Water features, for their cooling properties and the
soothing sound of their fountains, were an important component of palace design.32
Most palaces were equipped with pools and basins,33 and some pleasure pavilions
incorporated bathing pools for cooling off in the summer heat.34 Many palaces were
fronted by large, ornamental reflecting pools, a feature inherited from the Sāsānians.35
Some audience halls even incorporated canals to provide fresh running water, thereby
creating an atmosphere evocative of Qurānic descriptions of Paradise.36
Royal audience halls were often decorated in an ornate and extravagant manner; their
opulence, in turn, influenced the style and content of the poetry performed in them.37
The sumptuous mosaic ‘carpets’ and erotic stucco figures at Khirbat al-Mafjar provide
us with a glimpse of the splendour of Umayyad palace design.38 One of the few (semi-)
extant examples of an ornate, painted Persian majlis is that of the South Palace at
Lashkarı̄ Bāzār, where the walls were originally adorned with the striking figures of sixty
royal ghulāms alternately sporting scarlet and turquoise robes. This mural most proba-
bly reflected the reality at court, where Ghaznavid sultans are reported to have been
attended by a large number of royal ghulāms.39 Ettinghausen argues that the given
imagery or decor of a particular building or room is related to (and perhaps directly
reflects) the situation or activity that took place there.40 The main reception hall formed
the focal point of any palace and was, accordingly, often ornately decorated with
expensive materials,41 panelled with gilded tiles,42 stucco43 and, on occasion, veneered
with sheets of precious metal encrusted with precious stones.44 Some palace forecourts
were ornamented with poetic inscriptions extolling the power and beneficence of the
202 D. P. Brookshaw
king.45 Palaces were important manifestations of royal power and Persian kings contin-
ued the tradition of holding majālis in their audience halls,46 but it was gardens (and in
particular the pavilions they housed) that became the primary setting for Persian wine
parties. The Abbāsids inhabited costly and expansive palace-complexes, man-made
microcosms of the world beyond;47 Persia’s kings broke out of the confines of the urban
palace-complex, often holding their parties in suburban royal garden estates (sing.
bāgh) beyond the city limits.
Gardens do exist as part of palace-complex design in Abbāsid times, and some were
even on a grand scale.48 Some Abbāsid caliphs also had smaller gardens constructed
within the palace walls, which often served as venues for majālis al-sharāb.49 Al-Masūdı̄
describes one such garden, built by the Caliph al-Qāhir (r. 932–934), in which he
hosted wine parties planted with Indian orange trees, aromatic herbs and flowers, which
teemed with exotic birds.50 This garden setting for majālis tallies well with the abun-
dance of nature imagery found in the poetry.51 Abbāsid gardens located in the suburbs
of Baghdad or beyond the city limits provided ideal settings for illicit or more risqué
entertainments.52 Abbāsid caliphs also retired to localities such as al-Raqqa and
T ı̄zanābād where, removed from the imperial capital, they could engage more freely in
bawdy sports.53 Abbāsid caliphs patronised the construction of gardens and used them
as venues for their convivial majālis; walled gardens, whether planted within the palace
confines or in privately owned estates far from Baghdad, provided the seclusion they
required to host drinking parties.54 It is in medieval Iran, however, that the garden
increasingly comes to the fore as a primary setting for court life, both formal and
informal.
The building of a garden was often the occasion for a poem celebrating the event,
and garden design and construction was as much an expression of the king’s power in
the east as palace building had been under the Abbāsids.55 The construction of a royal
garden is often mentioned in the sources as a proof of the ruler’s might, of his ability
to tame and refashion nature. Islamic gardens are often interpreted as earthly reflections
of the gardens of the Qurānic Paradise, which is characterized by lush, verdant
vegetation watered by fountains and cool streams, where comely virgins of both sexes
serve wine and fruits to righteous men and women who recline on silken cushions in
cool pavilions.56 Moynihan writes (in a rather clichéd manner) that early Muslims
‘found in the Persian garden the earthly counterpart of the promised Koranic Paradise’
and that they soon realized that, ‘within the protective walls of a garden, in the privacy
of a man-made paradisal oasis, the sensual pleasures could be enjoyed—a foretaste of
the promised eternal Paradise.’57 Meisami, on the other hand, has argued that Persian
kings (and the poets who praised them) viewed the royal palace-garden as something
more than ‘merely a reflection of Paradise’; the palace-garden complex was Heaven’s
rival: its builder had created an earthly Paradise which was the envy of the heavenly
garden itself.58 Perhaps the most dramatic examples of such oases are the lush walled
gardens equipped with cool running streams, groves of fruit trees and airy pavilions
which were constructed in the otherwise arid and inhospitable salt deserts of the Iranian
plateau.59
Persian garden residences housed a whole complex of small, free-standing residential,
administrative and recreational buildings,60 everything that was confined within the
walls of the garden being considered a single entity.61 Gardens which were attached to
larger palaces were generally considered integral, vegetative extensions to the buildings
themselves, and were used particularly in the late spring and summer.62 Garden
residences seem to have been used in all seasons and for all occasions; parties, festivals
(e.g. Nawrūz, Mihragān, Īd-i Fitr and Sada) and for holding court.63 Rulers often
spent large amounts of time enjoying extended majālis in gardens,64 and would often
move from one bāgh to another:65 they lived in them, feasted in them, ruled from them
and, when they died, were sometimes buried in them.66 It is difficult to determine the
frequency with which extra-mural gardens were visited by their owners, but in the
spring and summer months such outings were most probably weekly occurrences.67
Drinking parties could be held in the open air, under the shade of trees, the garden
providing an animated backdrop to the party, a vegetative vista which changed in both
form and colour with the seasons (the coming of spring, the vernal equinox Nawrūz,
the feast of Mihragān and the onset of winter are popular themes of Persian poetry,
both lyric and panegyric).68
In the east the garden, focal point of court life, was often found at the centre of the
palace-complex. Interestingly, at Lashkarı̄ Bāzār, not only do we find the square garden
and its pavilion at the heart of the complex, but it has been suggested that it is this
garden (and not the audience halls which surround it) that constitutes the oldest
construction of the site, the focus around which the rest of the complex was planned.69
It has been suggested that early Persian Muslims favoured the sedentary use of gardens
and preferred to observe the garden from a distance, seated on an open pavilion or
raised viewing platforms, and seldom walked among the vegetation.70 Later Iranian
kings frequently held court in their gardens, with the king seated on a gilded throne or
dais shaded from the sun by ornately embroidered awnings, surrounded by his royal
guard with his courtiers seated before him on exquisite carpets and cushions.71 Moyni-
han attributes this more ‘active’ use of gardens to the Turkic origins of many post-
Sāmānid dynasties arguing that, as the Turkic tribesmen chose to live in their gardens,
they accordingly extended the use and design of the traditional Persian garden.72 This
is all very intriguing, but rather speculative. What can be argued from the historical and
poetic sources, however, is that from a very early period the construction of extra-mural
gardens as venues for wine parties was commonly practiced by Iranian kings.
Just as Abbāsid caliphs had numerous palaces and audience halls, so Ghaznavid
sultans kept many gardens in which they staged majālis.73 Their capital city, Ghazna,
sported several garden suburbs beyond the city proper, including one called Rawd a or
‘meadow’ where the Bāgh and Kākh-i Fı̄rūzı̄ were located.74 The Rawd a suburb was
also home to the mansions of Ghaznavid dignitaries, who irrigated it with elaborate
water channels and constructed numerous gardens with pavilions.75
Būyid Isfahan boasted four major gardens (al-bāghāt al-arba), located 1000 jarı̄b
outside of the city.76 The Bāgh-i Falāsān’s pavilion overlooked a paradisal garden where
the streams overflowed like wine goblets; the Bāgh-i Ah mad-i Siyāh had expansive
meadows (riyād ), large basins (h iyād ) and spacious majālis housed in lofty pavilions
(qusūr murtafia).77 The Bāgh-i Kārān’s two pavilions were so tall they seemed to dwarf
the pyramids; one overlooked the Zāyanda-rūd, the other faced the city and the great
maydān.78 The Bāgh-i Bakr was as fresh as a virgin (bikr) and sported elevated viewing
platforms (manāz ir jalı̄la) and a h ammām.79
Under a section on the palaces (qusūr) of Isfahan, al-Māfarrūkhı̄ describes in some
detail the pleasure-grounds (mutanazzahāt) which encircled the outskirts of the city
and their adjacent forts. The fortress (h isn) of Mārbı̄n—excellent both in spring and
summer—overlooked a huge meadow, ten farsangs by ten filled with wild flowers and
sweet herbs and fresh running streams; the Naffādha boasted trees like large-breasted
dancing girls and drunken virgins, and the Qas r al-Mughı̄ra was fronted by well-
ordered cypress groves.80 Al-Māfarrūkhı̄ praises Isfahan for resembling the gardens of
204 D. P. Brookshaw
Paradise and its adjacent gardens are described as encircling the city like a precious
necklace.81
The concept of a royal garden residence or bāgh was further developed by the
Muz affarids of the central and southern Iranian plateau, who built gardens with
residential pavilions and formal portals (sing. dargāh) in which official business was
transacted. Grabar believes that in 14th-century Yazd, ‘suburban and urban develop-
ments were intimately tied to each other both economically and in terms of monumen-
tal structures.’82 However, extra-mural garden residences of a substantial size were still
relatively uncommon in the 14th century. Two notable exceptions are the Kartid
Bāgh-i Safi¯d and Bāgh-i Zāghān, both built outside of the walled city of Herat.83 The
majority of construction undertaken by the Karts took place within the city walls.84 It
was under the Tı̄mūrid ruler Shāhrukh, that the shift away from the qala-centred city
came to fruition with the transfer of his residence (and, by implication, his court) to the
newly reconstructed Bāgh-i Zāghān in c.1409–1411.85 The extra-mural Bāgh-i Safi¯d
was also reconstructed around 1410, its tall pavilion (qasr) decorated with muqarnas
ayvāns, adorned with dadoes of jasper and painted throughout in the manner of a
Chinese ‘picture-gallery’ (nigārkhāna).86 Herat’s elites followed suit, settling in a series
of bāghs to the north and northwest of the city, and a new military and political centre
outside of Herat proper came into being in the midst of gardens.87
Garden suburbs had existed in earlier periods, but usually were formed when a city’s
population rapidly outgrew the traditional boundaries of the urban area and it became
necessary to build residences in the surrounding countryside.88 Under the Tı̄mūrids, we
see the crystallization of a process already partially underway under previous Iranian
dynasties: a shift of emphasis (and, later, of court) from palace to garden and tent-
city.89 Tı̄mūrid gardens were, perhaps, more functional; some plots of the chahārbāghs
were planted with soft ground cover on which tents and awnings could be pitched for
feasting.90 The preference for garden and tent over palace may stem from the Tı̄mūrids’
nomadic origins; they sought to reconcile the freedom of an itinerant life with the
pleasures of sedentary civilization.91 Some tents were of gigantic proportions, covering
huge tracts of land and, are occasionally referred to in contemporary accounts as qasr
or bārgāh, which would normally denote permanent palaces.92 A limited number of
gardens continued to be constructed within cities93 but, increasingly, royal garden
residences were laid out beyond the city limits in the surrounding countryside,94 where
the permanent structures were swamped by vegetation.95 It is my argument that these
gardens, although situated beyond the strict city limits, formed an integral part of the
city: they were verdant satellites, sometimes anchored to the urban nucleus by tree-
lined walkways.96
Another possible explanation for the development of extra-mural bāghs is security;
once a ruler felt secure in his capital, he was then confident enough to construct costly
residences in the surrounding countryside. The number of these gardens was perhaps
a reflection of the power and confidence of a given ruler, rather than a proof of his
Turkic roots.97 Some citadels were intentionally built within the city even during times
of peace to ‘practically and symbolically’ dominate the urban landscape.98 It is import-
ant to remember that Iranian cities often occupied vast tracts of land, and that gardens
located far from the fortified citadel may still have been considered as being situated
within the (greater) city. Ghazna, for example, covered an approximate area of 24
square km comprising sumptuous royal palaces, dignitaries’ mansions, recreational
gardens, orchards, mosques, madrasas, camping grounds for the slave-soldiers and
enclosures for elephants.99 Lashkarı̄ Bāzār (like Sāmarrā before her) was a vast ‘royal
Context and Setting of the Medieval Majlis 205
city’, a succession of palaces and gardens which stretched for many miles along the
banks of a major river;100 in Sourdel’s words, ‘un immense camp permanent’.101
Meadows and secluded areas located away from the city were also popular majlis
venues.102 Bayhaqı̄ describes a party held by Masūd on the Dasht-i Shābahār, that
‘vernal abode’ (khāna-yi bahārı̄) carpeted with tulips.103 The meadow outside of Shiraz
known as Mus allā, and the banks of the Ruknābād stream, seem to have provided a
similar setting in the time of H āfiz .104 Ibn Zarkūb equates Mus allā with the Garden of
Paradise (h adı̄qa-yi bihisht) and calls Shiraz itself an ‘earthly Paradise’ (bihishtı̄st mushak-
kal shuda bar rū-yi zamı̄n).105 Ruknābād (whose crystal-clear waters have magical,
life-giving properties) is so beauteous it causes the Tigris, Euphrates and Nile to
weep.106 Majālis were also held on the plain (presumably during periods of mild weather
and at times when the participants felt safe from attack); people would leave their
homes in the city and head for the countryside, taking with them minstrels, dancers and
vats of wine:
Everyone left their homes for the plain, taking with them all the instruments
of entertainment
From every garden, every mountainside and river bank, came the sound of a
different song
The ground, dotted with so many blooms and shoots, resembled the star-
studded heavens
Everyone sported a diadem of tulips, everyone held a wine cup that glowed
like a fire-brand
One group chose merry-making and horse-riding, another listened to music
whilst dancing
One group drank wine in an orchard, another plucked flowers in a rose-garden
One group were seated on the bank of a river, another sat in the middle of a
tulip-bed.107
Drinking parties on the open plain were often combined with another favourite royal
pastime, hunting, and were often staged in the royal tent.108 In Persian feasting and
hunting are considered complementary actions and often appear in texts side by side.109
A testament to the popularity of hunting is the profusion of hunting palaces (with
enclosed game reserves) constructed throughout the medieval period where guests
could enjoy both hunting and drinking.110 Hunting was considered such an important
affair that the proximity of hunting reserves could dictate the location of even quite
major palaces.111 In the absence of hunting lodges, transportable thrones (often ornately
gilded and draped with precious cloths) were set up on the plain for the royal host.112
Perhaps a less common setting for feasting was on the river; Bayhaqı̄ provides us with
at least one description of a boat party:
And on another day he [Masūd] mounted up and came to the banks of the
Oxus and they brought boats to this side [of the river]. They had adorned the
fortress with many weapons and many foot soldiers and commanders were
standing on the other side of the river. The amir sat in one boat and the
nadı̄ms, minstrels and ghulāms were seated in the others. In this manner they
rowed to the foot of the fortress … [When they reached the other side] the
commanders kissed the ground and offered tributes. The foot soldiers also
prostrated themselves on the ground. From the fortress they blew trumpets,
beat drums and uttered loud cries. The feast was laid out in the fashion of
Ghazna … and the wine began to flow and from the boats the [royal] minstrels
began to sing and at the water’s edge the minstrels of Tirmidh, local dancing
girls and drummers – in all more than three hundred souls – began to play
music and to dance.113
206 D. P. Brookshaw
The frequency with which gardens served as settings for majālis led to the construction
of both temporary and more permanent garden pavilions. Abbāsid caliphs built
pavilions in the grounds of their palaces and private gardens to provide more secluded
settings for their drinking-parties. Some of these early pavilions appear to have been on
a grand scale,114 and would have been erected at substantial cost.115 Height, essential in
order to provide fine views for the audience, was an important element of Abbāsid
garden pavilion design.116 Many Abbāsid caliphs built pavilions at their race-courses,117
and viewing platforms (sing. mashraf) were erected from which to observe other
entertainments. There is some archaeological evidence to suggest that the west bank of
the Tigris at Sāmarrā was developed with gardens equipped with pleasure pavilions,118
but it was in the east that these structures became commonplace,119 by the 15th
century, the pavilion was an essential element of the formal chahār-bāgh’s composition
and every Persian garden—whether royal or privately owned—would have had some
sort of kiosk, usually at its centre and often built on a raised platform. Positioned at the
heart of the garden, pavilions provided audiences with all-round views of the vegetation
and onlookers with uninterrupted views of their often ornately decorated exteriors from
all angles.120 The function of these small buildings as venues for wine parties and music
performances is often reflected in the names they are given (e.g. the T arabkhāna, or
‘House of Joy’ at Herat).121
Height was as important for the Persians as it had been for the Abbāsids, and kiosks
are often described in the texts as ‘lofty’ (usually, ālı̄) and reaching to the heavens.122
Tall pavilions provided excellent views over the city and surrounding countryside,123
their imposing height displaying the power of the ruler/patron and inspiring on-lookers
with awe.124 To take full advantage of a pavilion’s height, majālis were often held on the
roof, an excellent vantage point for contemplating the beauty of the surroundings whilst
drinking and projecting upper balconies supported by wooden struts were also con-
structed for similar purposes.125
‘Openness’ was an essential factor in the appeal of garden pavilions; guests were
sheltered (at least partially) from the elements and could gaze on the garden without
being in it.126 Pavilions and palaces might also be constructed in such a way as to
provide those taking part in the majlis with four (or more) diverse aspects, such as
garden, mountain, river and dry land,127 providing the variety essential to any form of
entertainment. Octagonal or multi-ayvān pavilions provided performers with a wide
choice of venues, each offering their audience a unique view of the garden from a
particular angle.128 Hosts might accordingly reposition the party according to the
season (e.g. to view newly-blossoming flowers) or the time of day (e.g. as the light
changed). Additional variety would have been provided by the change in season. It
seems likely that garden pavilions would have been used from early spring to late
autumn (certainly Nawrūz to Mihragān); winter majālis were most probably in the
palace proper, often in a heated room known as the tābkhāna.129 Even more sturdy
pavilions were unlikely to withstand many harsh winters, being open on all sides and,
consequently, at the mercy of the elements.
Water was an important element of pavilion design; the paved area immediately
surrounding the pavilion frequently incorporated a water channel and pool.130 Water
courses sometimes ran through pavilions and kiosks were sometimes also built over
man-made pools or natural springs or even at the centre of artificial lakes.131
Very few of these structures have survived (for various reasons, which I will discuss
below), although textual sources provide information about the most important kiosks,
and give the impression that these buildings were extremely varied in design and form.
Many kiosks appear to have been constructed from wood132 or a combination of wood,
tile and unbaked brick, making them susceptible to decay. Open to the elements on all
sides, their ornate, carved wooden columns, painted inscriptions and domed or flat
roofs most probably rotted away within a matter of years.133 The preference for
constructing kiosks on exposed plains and windswept hillsides no doubt shortened their
life span.134 Another explanation for the paucity of archaeological evidence for these
constructions is that many of these ‘pavilions’ were no more than highly functional,
makeshift platforms hastily constructed over just a few days for immediate use as
venues for royal majālis,135 while others merely consisted of tents pitched on purpose-
built platforms.136 Transportability seems to have been an important factor in kiosk
design: many (wooden) kiosks were easily dismantled and stored, ideal for an itinerant
court.137 Other temporary wooden structures were erected in gardens for nuptial and
circumcision celebrations, and might stay up for some time.138 Tents and awnings were
also pitched against permanent structures to provide shaded venues for garden
majālis.139 On special occasions, brick kiosks were draped with silks, precious cloths and
carpets; in effect forming ‘permanent tents’.140
More substantial pavilions were fewer in number and were often carefully planned
and constructed over a number of years, often under the direct supervision of the royal
patron.141 The Kūshk-i Masūdı̄ (perhaps more of a ‘palace’ than a ‘pavilion’), for
example, took four years to complete and was built according to detailed plans drawn
up by the amir himself.142 Permanent (stone) pavilions, such as the Chihil Sutūn in the
Bāgh-i Maydān outside Samarqand,143 were, presumably, built to last and some appear
to have been in use for generations, passed on from king to king.144 Bayhaqı̄, on the
whole, gives us the sense that Masūd maintained and utilized his father’s favourite
pavilions, including the Kūshk-i Kuhan-i Mah mūdı̄.145 Most pavilions did not fare as
well, however, and, like the palaces and gardens they adorned, soon fell into disrepair
after the death of their patron. Juvaynı̄ describes a pavilion (kūshk) of substantial
proportion built for the Mongol ruler Qāān, second son and successor of Genghis
Khan:
And in the middle of that garden, artisans from Khitay built a pavilion … and
inside it a throne having three rows of steps, one for Qāān, another for his
lady and a third for the cup-bearers (suqāt) and table-deckers (khvānsālārān);
and on the right and left they built houses for his brothers and sons … the
walls of which were painted with pictures (nuqūsh).146
Many kiosks were highly ornate, fanciful structures, erected from or embellished with
extremely delicate and costly materials, such as marble,147 jade,148 lapis lazuli,149 gilt or
turquoise tiles,150 Chinese porcelain, or even paper;151 perhaps another reason why little
physical evidence of them has survived. Many of these expensive building materials
were imported from distant lands at considerable cost, a testament to the power and
wealth of the patron.152 Kiosks were often painted, both inside (often with battle
scenes),153 and outside (often with floral motifs and figurative depictions of lovers).154
The battle scenes would remind the audience of the patron’s auspicious might and the
amorous murals would echo the erotic tone of the ghazal, a pictorial expression of the
bazm u razm.155 Bombaci gives the following interpretation of the importance of the
frescoes found in the palaces at Ghazna:
Taken as a whole, the repertory offered us by the reliefs, is a varied one, its
purpose is to illustrate the environment in which the Sovereign lived both in
208 D. P. Brookshaw
the refinements of his private life, in the pomp and splendour of his public
appearances, and in his displays of courage.156
Painting, however, was a costly method of decoration, and the most elaborate schemes
were to be found in buildings which had royal patrons.157 The Kartid Tarı̄khnāma-yi
Harāt mentions several elaborately painted edifices (pavilions, palaces and khānqāhs)
adorned with wonderful forms (ashkāl-i gharı̄b) and unique paintings (nuqūsh-i badı̄)
built in and around Herat in the 14th century.158 One palace was covered with designs
(nuqūsh) and images (suvar) the like of which no experienced traveller would have seen
in any other land.159
In addition to the permanent ornamentation of these buildings (e.g. tiles, inscrip-
tions, frescoes), pavilions would be adorned with a variety of temporary decorations
before the holding of a majlis (esp. a royal one).160 The use of textile hangings, carpets
woven with gold and silver thread, velvet and brocade cushions and other soft furnish-
ings served to change the existing appearance of the pavilion and provide the majlis
guests with a luxurious and, above all, comfortable environment.161 Cloth curtains
could be draped over doors and windows, both to provide privacy and to keep out the
cold.162 Brocade cloths were transportable and could be brought from nearby palaces
to provide instant decoration for otherwise white-washed plaster walls, common in
14th-century Iranian garden pavilions.163 Whole viewing platforms and thrones might
be carpeted with expensive cloth and woven textiles to beautify the audience’s sur-
roundings and soften their seats.164 Valuable cloths could also be spread over simple/
plain structures or even on the lawn (chaman) for an instant royal feast.165 Luxury was
the watchword at medieval wine parties, and the use of golden or gem-encrusted
goblets was not uncommon.166 Bowls used to serve wine or food at majālis were often
engraved with lyric poetry or painted with courtly or garden scenes.167
The scattering of pearls, gemstones, nuql (usually sugar or almonds) and coins was
common at majālis (also at weddings, coronations and major festivities).168 These were
all costly items and were scattered as a manifestation of the patron’s wealth and
generosity. Musk, ambergris, aloes, camphor, sandalwood and other scented sub-
stances were also scattered in the pavilion in preparation for a majlis.169 Scent also
played an important role in kiosk design. Al-Masūdı̄ describes a kiosk favoured by
al-Amı̄n built of sweet-smelling aloe and sandalwood, ten cubits by ten in size, domed
and hung with silks and fine green brocades woven with red gold.170 The scent of the
majlis may also have been reflected in the decor of the pavilion; in the Haft Paykar, the
red dome is associated with sandalwood and the black dome with musk. Musk, incense
and other fragrant substances were also burnt at majālis, either on braziers or in ornate
scent burners, often fashioned in the form of birds, lions and other animals.171
Bayhaqı̄’s description of the preparation of one kiosk shows the emphasis placed on
scent:
And so they decorated [the Kushk-i Kuhan-i Mah mūdı̄] with several types of
precious cloth and a lot of jewels, and set out golden tables laden with
ambergris and camphor, and they placed around much musk and aloes. They
went to so much trouble, the like of which no one could recall.172
The scents rising from the kiosk would have mixed with that of the garden, its flowers
and sweet herbs.173 The attendant ghulāms and nadı̄ms were also expected to perfume
themselves, scent their hair, have sweet breath and wear garments made of fine
materials;174 they were there to adorn the majlis, like painted idols.175 The drink and
food served at the majlis (esp. the nuql or delicate nibbles, e.g. sugar candy, honey,
almonds, basil and fruit) were intentionally chosen for their sweet aroma and rich
taste;176 all in all a heady concoction of sensuous pleasure.
3. Conclusion
This study has demonstrated that in order to better understand the performance
context of the courtly lyric in both Abbāsid Iraq and medieval Iran, we must take into
account much more than merely the spatial dynamics of the physical setting of poetry
recitations. In addition to locating the convivial majlis variously within the palace
proper, mansions, hunting lodges, kiosks, gardens and on the open plain, this study has
also shown that with the changing of the seasons and in different climates or even at
different times of the day, poetry was performed (and, therefore, enjoyed) in distinct
ways. Seasonal developments in the garden or the temporary embellishment of audi-
ence halls and kiosks (with tapestries, carpets and other moveable furnishings) created
ever changing visual backdrops for the performance of poetry. The role played by scent
(whether that of the flowers, of musk and ambergris or the perfumed guests and
attendants) together with the consumption of certain foods and wine and the guests’
engagement in various games and entertainments in creating a playful and relaxed
atmosphere for the performance of lyric poetry has also been discussed. The effect of
music and singing, whether as part of the poetic performance or as a complement to it,
is an area which needs more research. The scale of medieval Islamic majālis (whether
formal, grand and public or small scale and more intimate), the composition of the
audience (court officials, nudamā and the performers themselves) and the role played
by the patron-host (whether caliph, king, vizier or merchant), his flirtation with the
sāqı̄-slaves and his bestowal of financial rewards upon poets, are all factors which have
been discussed in this article, but which deserve further attention. In conclusion, this
study has demonstrated the effect of the physical setting on the performance of Arabic
and Persian lyric poetry, but a close textual analysis of the poems themselves is required
to ascertain the extent to which this physical environment influenced the content of the
poetry.
Notes
1. For a brief overview of the majlis, see ‘Madjlis: I. in Social and Cultural Life’, in: EI2. For a
preliminary discussion of the medieval Persian performance context of lyric poetry, see F.D.
Lewis, Reading, Writing and Recitation: Sanā’i and the Origins of the Persian Ghazal, unpublished
PhD thesis (Chicago University, 1995), pp. 69–92. See also M. Boyce (1957) ‘The Parthian
Gōsān and the Iranian Minstrel Tradition’, JRAS 18, pp. 10–45; J. Clinton (1972) The Divan of
Manuchihrı̄ Dāmghānı̄: A Critical Study (Minnesota).
2. G.D. Sawa (1989) Music Performance in the Early Abbāsid Era (Toronto), p. 111. See also S.
Stroumsa (1999) ‘Ibn al-Rāwandı̄’s sū adab al-mujādala: the Role of Bad Manners in Medieval
Disputations’, in: The Majlis: Interreligious Encounters in Medieval Islam, Ed. H. Lazarus-Yafeh et
al. (Wiesbaden), pp. 66–83; and G. Makdisi (1990) The Rise of Humanism in Classical Islam and
the Christian West, with special reference to scholasticism (Edinburgh), pp. 60–66 and 148.
3. See J.L. Kraemer (1986) Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam (Leiden), pp. 58, 140; L.E.
Goodman (1973) ‘Rāzı̄ vs Rāzı̄—Philosophy in the Majlis’, in: The Majlis: Interreligious Encounters,
pp. 84–107; al-Masūdı̄ (1973) Murūj al-Dhahab, Ed. C. Pellat (Beirut), vol. IV: pp. 314, 377
382; Mah mūd Kutubı̄ (1956) Tarı̄kh-i Āl-i Muz affar, Ed. A. Navāı̄ (Tehran), pp. 8, 49; and Ibn
Zarkūb (1932) Shı̄rāznāma, Ed. B. Karı̄mı̄ (Tehran), pp. 111, 126, 155.
4. Abū Ish āq al-H
us rı̄ (1925) Zahr al-Ādāb, Ed. Z. Mubārak (Cairo), vol. II: p. 150.
5. See J.S. Meisami, ‘The Persian Ghazal between Love Song and Panegyric’, forthcoming
210 D. P. Brookshaw
article, esp. pp. 1–3 and 16–17. For a risqué Ghaznavid majlis, see Abū’l-Fad l b. H usayn Bayhaqı̄
(1971) Tarı̄kh-i Bayhaqı̄, Ed. A. Fayyād (Mashhad), p. 192. Lewis (Reading, Writing and
Recitation, pp. 108–109) paints a more subtle picture of the medieval wine party: ‘My assumption
is that the majāles in which the Persian ghazal was performed was, like a theatrical performance,
a meshing of the oral and textual spheres in which meaning sometimes arose from gesture; from
the direction faced by the performer, from the presence of both reciter/singer and poet, who may
take turns rendering various lines; from musical cues; and from a shared performance history, in
which actual members of the audience, such as those serving wine to the guests, and other
features of the hors de texte are embodied in the text, becoming themselves somehow
“intertextual” and giving shape to the semiotics of the poem in ways both serious and humorous,
that emphasize and make poignant or even undercut the surface meaning of a poetic text.’
6. See J.T.P. de Bruijn (1983) Of Piety and Poetry: the Interaction of Religion and Literature in the Life
and Works of H akı̄m Sanāı̄ of Ghazna (Leiden), p. 158.
7. e.g. the Kitāb al-Tāj (Ed. A. Zakı̄ (Cairo, 1914), p. 153) tells us that al-Mahdı̄ and al-Hādı̄ drank
every other day, al-Rashı̄d two days a week, al-Mamūn, originally Tuesdays and Fridays, later
daily, al-Mutas im not Thursdays and Fridays and al-Wāthiq, any time, except Thursday evening
or Friday during the day. For a discussion of the influence of wine drinking on early medieval
Arabic poetry, see P.F. Kennedy (1997) The Wine Song in Classical Arabic Poetry. Abū Nuwās and
the Literary Tradition (Oxford), pp. 19–85.
8. A.G. Chejne (1965) ‘The Boon-companion in Early Abbāsid Times’, JAOS, 85, esp. pp.
327–335. See also Kushājim (1999) Adab al-Nadı̄m, Ed. al-Nabawı̄ Shalān (Cairo), pp. 70–77
and Niz ām al-Mulk (1956) Siyāsatnāma, Eds M. Qazvı̄nı̄ and M. Mudarrisı̄-Chahārdihı̄
(Tehran), pp. 95–97 on necessary qualities of nadı̄ms. Abū Nuwās and al-Abbās b. al-Ah naf both
enjoyed nadı̄m status at the Abbāsid court and the Persian minstrels, Bārbad and Nakı̄sā were
nadı̄ms at the court of Khusraw Parvı̄z; see Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄ (1954) Khusraw va Shı̄rı̄n, Ed. V.
Dastgirdı̄ (Tehran), p. 357.
9. It was not unusual for more established poets and musicians to joke openly with their patrons and
other distinguished guests; see Abū’l-Faraj al-Is fahānı̄ (1927–1974) Kitāb al-Aghānı̄ (Cairo), vol.
VIII: p. 355; and al-H us ri, Zahr al-Ādāb, vol. II: p. 122.
10. KayKāūs b. Iskandar (1951) Qābūsnāma, Ed. R. Levy (London), pp. 118–119: the poet–musi-
cian was expected to refrain from flirting with his patron’s slaves or wine servers in any way. See
also al-H us rı̄, Zahr al-Ādāb, vol. II: p. 212: al-Mutawakkil rebukes H usayn b. al-D ah h āk for
groping his sāqı̄. Members of the ruler’s own family were also bound to such modes of behaviour
at the majlis, see Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 329: Mah mūd rebukes his younger brother. Yūsuf, for
ogling one of his prized sāqı̄s. Strict etiquette also governed the serving of wine: the nudamā were
served wine after the host (ras al-majlis) and were forbidden to drink until he had finished his first
cup, see Ibn al-Mutazz (1925) Fusūl al-Tamāthı̄l fi¯ Tabāshı̄r al-Surūr, Ed. M.S. al-Kurdı̄ (Cairo),
p. 71.
11. See Abū Hiffān al-Mihzamı̄ (1954) Akhbār Abı̄ Nuwās, Ed. Abd al-Sattār Ah mad Farrāj (Cairo),
p. 89; al-Masūdı̄ (1974) Murūj al-Dhahab, Ed. C. Pellat (Beirut), vol. V: pp. 84, 132; and
Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 407. For an illuminating discussion of the term martaba, see J. Sadan (1973)
‘A Propos de martaba: remarques sur l’étiquette dans le monde musulman médiéval’, Revue des
Études Islamiques, 41, pp. 51–69, esp. pp. 52–53, 56–59.
12. e.g. Fakhr al-Dı̄n Gurgānı̄ (1959) Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, Ed. M. Mı̄nuvı̄ (Tehran) p. 29 and the Tarı̄kh-i
Sı̄stān, Ed. J. Mudarris S ādiqı̄ (Tehran, 1994), p. 178. Drinking companions are also referred to
using the Arabic term jalı̄s (pl. julasā) literally, those who sit at the majlis, see e.g. Abū Bakr
Muh ammad al-S ūlı̄ (1998) Kitāb al-Awrāq, Eds V.I. Beliaev and A.B. Khalidov (St Petersburg),
p. 531 for a list of al-Mutawakkil’s julasā. Occasionally, guests stood at majālis, see Niz āmı̄
Ganjavı̄, Khusraw va Shı̄rı̄n, p. 94.
13. See the Tarı̄kh-i Sı̄stān, pp. 178–179 for Rūdakı̄’s poem ‘mādar-i may’ which describes a majlis
where ‘thousands’ of beautiful Turkish ghulāms stand in rows. For standing ghulāms at the
Ghaznavid court, see Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 20, 41, 235, 890.
14. The poet fulfilled his part of the bargain by composing panegyric poetry, see e.g. Farrukhı̄ Sı̄stānı̄
(1999) Dı̄vān, Ed. M. Dabı̄r Siyāqı̄ (Tehran), p. 272: ‘guftā nithār-i shāir madh -ast, madh khvān’.
15. See al-Is fahānı̄, Aghānı̄, vol. V: p. 330 and ibid., vol. VIII: pp. 362, 369; al-S ūlı̄, Kitāb al-Awrāq,
pp. 407, 532; Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 157; and Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Khusraw va Shı̄rı̄n, p. 194. For the
distribution of pearls at a majlis, see Ibn al-T iqtaqā (1923) al-Fakhrı̄, Eds. M. A. Ibrāhı̄m and A.
al-Jārim (Cairo), pp. 203–204; for the distribution of gold, see Niz āmı̄ Arūd ı̄ (1920) Chahār
Maqāla, Ed. M. Qazvı̄nı̄ (London), p. 47 and Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Khusraw va Shı̄rı̄n, p. 356. On
stuffing the poet’s mouth with gems and coins, see Abū Hiffān, Akhbār Abı̄ Nuwās, p. 71 and
Niz āmı̄ Arūd ı̄, Chahār Maqāla, pp. 35, 44. On the generosity of the ruler/patron. see KayKāūs,
Qābūsnāma, p. 135. Excessive generosity, however, was considered by some to be inappropriate,
see Kitāb al-Tāj, p. 42. Performers who were able to solicit the largest awards possible were
considered skilled in ‘hunting dirhams’ (sayd al-darāhim), see al-Is fahānı̄, Aghānı̄, vol. V: pp.
322–323.
16. Kaykāūs, Qābūsnāma, p. 110.
17. Niz āmı̄ Arūd ı̄, Chahār Maqāla, pp. 29–30. Some poets appear to have performed the same
poem(s) at almost every majlis, see e.g. Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 86.
18. See Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 490.
19. See Abū Hiffān, Akhbār Abı̄ Nuwās, p. 118 and al-Masūdı̄, Murūj al-Dhahab, vol. IV: p. 175. For
invitation poems, see al-H us rı̄. Zahr al-Ādāb, vol. II: pp. 144–145 and al-Is fahānı̄, Aghānı̄, vol.
XIII: pp. 295–296: Mutı̄ b. Iyās invites his companions for a majlis al-mujūn in al-Karkh where
the ghulāms are like sweet basil and fragrant aloes. For a Hebrew equivalent, see R. P. Scheindlin
(1986) Wine, Women and Death: Medieval Hebrew Poems on the Good Life (Oxford), pp. 72–73. For
an example of a composition competition, see Abū Hiffān, Akhbār Abı̄ Nuwās, pp. 78–82: a group
of poets, including Abū Nuwās, H usayn b. al-D ah h āk and Inān, compose poems inviting each
other to their respective homes for a majlis.
20. Al-Is fahānı̄, Aghānı̄ vol. VIII: p. 69: H usayn b. al-D ah h āk and Abū Nuwās sit drinking together,
composing songs about their favourite boys; and ibid., vol. X: p. 173: Ulayya sings in the
presence of her brother Ibrāhı̄m b. al-Mahdı̄, accompanied by another brother, Yaqūb, on the
zamr [a kind of oboe]; and ibid., vol. VI: pp. 309–310: Umm Jafar enjoys a private audience with
Hārūn al-Rashı̄d and the singer Ibn Jāmi.
21. Palace is an English approximation for the Arabic terms qasr (‘palace’, ‘castle’), but also
‘enclosure’), dār (‘palace’ or ‘large house’) and jawsaq (‘palace’, ‘kiosk’ or ‘mansion’), and the
Persian terms bārgāh (‘palace’ or ‘tent’) and kākh, sarāy, kūshk or mishkūy (variously ‘palace’,
‘pavilion’ or ‘kiosk’). For a discussion of Abbāsid palace literature, see J. Bray (2001) ‘Samarra
in Ninth-Century Arabic Letters’, in: ‘A Medieval City Reconsidered: An Interdisciplinary Approach
to Samarra, Oxford Studies in Islamic Art XIV, Ed. C.F. Robinson (Oxford), pp. 27–28.
22. D. Sourdel (1960) ‘Questions de cérémonial Abbaside’, Revue des Études Islamiques, 28, p. 125:
banquets were often held in the ı̄wān of the majlis chamber. See also Abū Abdallāh al-Jahshiyārı̄
(1938) Kitāb al-Wuzarā wa’l-Kuttāb, Eds M. al-Saqqā, I. al-Abyārı̄ and A. Shalabı̄ (Cairo) p.
255.
23. See D. and J. Sourdel (1968) La Civilisation de l’Islam Classique (Paris), p. 341 and O. Grabar,
(1977) ‘Notes sur les cérémonies umayyades’, in: Studies in Memory of Gaston Wiet, Ed. M.
Rosen-Ayalon (Jerusalem), p. 56.
24. See Kitāb al-Tāj, pp. 28, 30; al-Masūdı̄, Murūj al-Dhahab, vol. IV: pp. 52, 109; Hilāl al-S ābi
(1977) Rusūm Dār al-Khilāfa, trans. E. Salem (Beirut), pp. 73–74; and KayKāūs, Qābūsnāma, p.
130. Curtains were used to provide added privacy at some majālis and were occasionally used to
screen nadı̄ms, qaynas and mughannı̄s from the audience, see Kushājim, Adab al-Nadı̄m, p. 94.
25. See al-Masūdı̄, Murūj al-Dhahab, vol. V: p. 6 for the ‘H ı̄ran’ style of palace design popular under
al-Mutawakkil with the majlis al-malik at the heart of the riwāq.
26. Each Abbāsid caliph had numerous palaces and multiple audience halls, see Sourdel, ‘Questions
de cérémonial’, p. 122 and A. Northedge, ‘The Palaces of the Abbasids at Samarra’, in: A
Medieval City Reconsidered: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Samarra, pp. 33, 36, 46, 49. See also
J.M. Bloom (1993), ‘The Qubbat al-Khad rā and the Iconography of Height in Early Islamic
Architecture’, Ars Orientalis, 23, pp. 135–136: ‘Over each of the four gates to al-Mans ūr’s Round
City other elevated domed chambers marked the extent of the caliph’s personal domain and
authority. These audience rooms stood over the inner gates of the city and were reached by
staircases or ramps. Each was crowned by a dome fifty cubits high.’
27. Northedge, ‘The Palaces of the Abbasids at Samarra’, pp. 33–34, 51–52 for the Dār al-Khilāfa
and Balkuwārā palaces, respectively. See also R. Hamilton (1988) Walid and His Friends: an
Umayyad Tragedy, Oxford Studies in Islamic Art, vol. VI (Oxford), pp. 27–29 for the cruciform
system of vaulting at Khirbat al-Mafjar and the ‘cruciform accent’ of the two broad naves: and
R. Ettinghausen (1972) From Byzantium to Sasanian Iran and the Islamic World: Three Modes of
Artistic Influence (Leiden), pp. 50–51 for a Ghassānid cruciform floor plan. The cross plan seems
to have been a popular design for eastern garden pavilions too, see Ruy Gonzalez de Clavijo
(1924) Embassy to Tamerlane 1403–1406, trans. G. Le Strange (London), pp. 227, 230.
212 D. P. Brookshaw
28. The main reception hall building at the al-Jafarı̄ in Sāmarrā, for example, was an approxi-
mate square of 155 m, see Northedge, ‘The Palaces of the Abbasids at Samarra’, p. 39. I would
argue, however, that there is not always a direct correlation to be drawn between size and
function. Northedge (‘The Palaces of the Abbasids at Samarra’, pp. 36, 38, 59) seeks to
distinguish between ‘private’ and ‘public’ audience halls based, primarily, on their decoration
and size. This is too rigid a distinction for rooms, which the texts suggest were highly multi-
purpose.
29. See L. Bier (1993), ‘The Sasanian Palaces and their Influence in Early Islam’, Ars Orientalis, 23,
p. 59; Bloom, ‘Qubbat al-Khad rā’, pp. 135, 138; and Northedge, ‘The Palaces of the Abbasids
at Samarra’, pp. 36, 48. Musicians, singers and poets may have performed directly under domes
to take advantage of the acoustic benefits they can provide, see Hamilton, Walid and His Friends,
p. 28 and Ettinghausen, From Byzantium to Sasanian Iran and the Islamic World, pp. 39–40. See
S. Blair (1993) ‘The Ilkhanid Palace’, Muqarnas, 23, p. 240 for a domed Īlkhānid audience hall.
30. Bloom, ‘Qubbat al-Khad rā’, p. 137. The Qas r al-Āshiq at Samarra was built on an artificial
platform that stood about 10 m above the surrounding land, see Northedge, ‘The Palaces of the
Abbasids at Samarra’, p. 42.

31. See J. Lassner (1970) The Topography of Baghdad in the Early Middle Ages (Detroit) pp. 85, 87 for
the expansive majlis of the al-Tāj on the banks of the Tigris. See also A. Northedge (1993) ‘An
Interpretation of the Palace of the Caliph at Samarra (Dar al-Khilafa or Jawsaq al-Khaqani)’, Ars
Orientalia, 23, p. 146: ‘Presumably there was a majlis … in this second story, with a view over
the Tigris and the flood plain.’ This tradition appears to have been imitated in the east, see D.
Schlumberger (1978) Lashkari Bazar: Une Résidence Royale Ghaznévide et Ghoride, Mémoires de
la Délégation Archéologique Française en Afghanistan, vol. XVIII (Paris), vol. 1A: pp. 38–41 and
G. Fehérvári and M. Shokoohy (1980) ‘Archaeological Notes on Lashkari Bazar’, Wiener
Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes, 72, p. 81: the audience chamber of the South Palace
overlooked the Hilmand and was equipped with a staircase that gave access directly to the river.
The most desirable private houses in Baghdad and at Lashkarı̄ Bāzār also enjoyed river views, an
ideal setting for more intimate majālis, see Ahsan, M.M. (1979) Social Life under the Abbasids
170–289 AH/786–902 AD (London), pp. 172–173; and Fehérvári/Shokoohy, ‘Archaeological
Notes’, p. 91.
32. See Azraqı̄ Haravı̄ (1957) Dı̄vān, ed. S. Nafi¯sı̄ (Tehran), p. 66 for a description of a golden water
pipe through which clear water is carried to a cistern.
33. See al-Masūdı̄, Murūj al-Dhahab, vol. IV: p. 268 for the Caliph al-Amı̄n’s pool (birka) filled with
fish adorned with jewelled earrings. Hamilton (Walid and His Friends, p. 29) suggests that Khirbat
al-Mafjar housed a large indoor pool for bathing and, possibly (ibid. pp. 35, 45–46), several
smaller plunge pools which were filled variously with wine or rose water mixed with musk and
turmeric. See also Blair, ‘The Ilkhanid Palace’, p. 240 and L. Bier (1986) Sarvistan: A Study in
Early Iranian Architecture (Pennsylvania), pp. 57–58.
34. The Khirbat al-Mafjar palace-complex incorporated a stone, octagonal pavilion built over a
square pool at the centre of a large enclosed area (possibly a garden), see Hamilton, Walid and
His Friends, p. 56, see also ibid. p. 18 for a plan of the whole site and pp. 60–62 for a
reconstructed view of the pavilion. Pool pavilions were also constructed in the east, see E.B.
Moynihan (1980) Paradise as a Garden in Persia and Mughal India (London), p. 51 for an early
15th-century Herat school miniature depicting nymphs playing in a pool at a garden pavilion.
While they frolic in the basin, two women possibly recite poetry and another woman dances on
the poolside to the accompaniment of a female harpist.
35. See M. Khansari, M.R. Moghtader and M. Yavari (1998) The Persian Garden: Echoes of Paradise
(Washington), pp. 49–51. Artificial lakes were also constructed within the palace-complex, see
J.S. Meisami, ‘The Palace-Complex as Emblem: Some Samarran Qas ı̄das’, in: A Medieval City
Reconsidered: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Samarra, pp. 70–71 and idem, (2001), ‘Palaces and
Paradises: Palace Description in Medieval Persian Poetry’, in: Seeing Things: Texuality and
Visuality in the Islamic World, Princeton Papers vol. VIII, Eds O. Grabar and C. Robinson
(Princeton), p. 31.
36. D. Schlumberger (1952) ‘Le Palais Ghaznévide de Lashkari Bazar’, Syria, 29, pp. 259–260. For
examples of scriptural references to rivers flowing under pavilions and gardens, see Qurān: 2:25,
‘anna la-hum jannātin tajrı̄ min tah ti-hā’l-anhār’; 2:226, ‘jannatun min nakhı̄lin wa anābin tajrı̄ min
tah ti-hā’l-anhār’; 29:58, ‘… ghurafan tajrı̄ min tah tı̄-hā’l-anhār’; 39:20, ‘… la-hum ghurafun min
fawqi-hā ghurafun mabniyyatun tajrı̄ min tah ti-hā’l-anhār’. A similar inscription (Qurān, Sūrat
al-Fath , 48, pp. 1–6) is to be found above the mih rāb in the oratory adjoining the majlis of the
southern palace at Lashkarı̄ Bāzār, see Schlumberger, Lashkari Bazar: Une résidence royale
Ghaznévide, vol. XVIII, pp. 42–43.
37. For descriptions of ornate audience halls, see J. Lassner, Topography, pp. 88–89; M.F. Ghazi
(1959) ‘Un groupe social: ‘les raffinés’ (z urafā)’, Studia Islamica, XI, p. 55; and al-S ābı̄, Rusūm
Dār al-Khilāfa, p. 73. For poems in praise of Abbāsid and Persian palaces, see Meisami, ‘The
Palace-Complex as Emblem’ and idem, ‘Palaces and Paradises’.
38. Hamilton, Walid and His Friends, pp. 22, 24–25, 27, 54. Ettinghausen (From Byzantium to
Sasanian Iran and the Islamic World, p. 39) suggests that the radial apse mosaic upon which the
throne may have stood at Khirbat al-Mafjar reflected the farr or glory of the Umayyad house.
39. Schlumberger, Lashkari Bazar: Une Résidence Royale Ghaznévide, vol. 1B: plates 120–122. For
descriptions of Ghaznavid ghulāms, see Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 20, 41, 235, 293, 689, 891. See also
Niz ām al-Mulk, Siyāsatnāma, pp. 109, 127, 130; and Abū’l-Qāsim Uns urı̄ (1944) Dı̄vān, Ed. Y.
Qarib (Tehran). p. 45. Royal women were similarly waited on by large numbers of female
servants, see Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, pp. 41, 319 for Vı̄s’ ‘legion’ (lashkar) of 50–80 maidservants,
beauties of Chı̄n, Byzantium, India and Barbary.
40. Ettinghausen, From Byzantium to Sasanian Iran and the Islamic World, p. 35. See ibid. p. 35 for
an interesting note on the enthronement mural at Qus ayr Amra.
41. The white dome of the Hārūnı̄ palace at Sāmarra was adorned with a cubit-thick belt of teak
plated with lapis lazuli and gold, see Northedge, ‘The Palaces of the Abbasids at Samarra’, p. 38.
See also Blair, ‘The Ilkhanid Palace’, p. 239: carved marble, luster and lajvardina tiles, and
molded stucco were all found at the site of the Īlkhānid palace at Takht-i Sulaymān.
42. See U. Scerrato (1959), ‘The First Two Excavation Campaigns at Ghazni 1957–1958 (Summary
Report on the Italian Archaeological Mission in Afghanistan)’, East and West, 10, pp. 34, 37. See
also Blair, ‘The Ilkhanid Palace’, p. 243: ‘The main subjects of decoration on Ilkhanid palaces
were figural representations and poetic inscriptions. The luster and lajvardina tiles at Takht-i
Sulayman, dated between 1272 and 1276, included depictions of such animals as dragons and
simurghs and such scenes from the Shāhnāma as “Bahram Gur hunting with his slave girl
Azadah”.’
43. On the ornamental use of stucco, see Scerrato, ‘The First Two Excavation Campaigns at Ghazni’,
pp. 32–33.
44. e.g. Northedge, ‘The Palaces of the Abbasids at Samarra’, pp. 63–64: Uns urı̄, Dı̄vān, p. 69; and
Abū’l-Qāsim al-Qāshānı̄ (1969) Ta’rı̄kh-i Ūljaytū, Ed. M. Hambalı̄ (Tehran), p. 47. See also
Melikian-Chirvani (1986) ‘Silver in Islamic Iran: The Evidence from Literature and Epigraphy’,
in: Pots and Pans: a colloquium on precious metals and ceramics in the Muslim, Chinese and
Graeco-Roman worlds, Oxford Studies in Islamic Art, vol. III, Ed. M. Vickers (Oxford), pp.
86–106, esp. pp. 93–94.
45. See A. Bombaci (1966) The Kūfi¯c Inscription in Persian Verses in the Court of the Royal Palace of
Masūd III at Ghazni (Rome), p. 6: the court of Masūd III’s palace was adorned with a 250m
dado frieze of panegyric verses in fine Kūfic script placed at seated head height. See ibid. pp.
39–40 for a discussion of poetic palace inscriptions at Ghazna, Palermo and Granada. For poetic
descriptions of ornamental inscriptions on Persian palaces, see Meisami, ‘Palaces and Paradises’,
pp. 23, 27.
46. Meisami, ‘Palaces and Paradises’, p. 21: ‘In the realm of secular building the palace holds a
special place, as a nexus of power which joins the human and the cosmic; and the palace-complex
becomes, both for its builders and (perhaps especially) for those who praise it, a symbol of
something beyond the merely material.’
47. Al-Masūdı̄, Murūj al-Dhahab, vol. V: p. 14. See also Meisami, ‘The Palace-Complex as
Emblem’, p. 3: ‘The palaces, gardens, lakes and other wonders described in them amount to a
microcosm created by the caliph, an ideal world in which all is as it should be, all is in harmony
… even the buildings themselves are united in relationships of friendship and joy.’
48. Northedge, ‘An Interpretation of the Palace of the Caliph’, esp. pp. 145–146, 162. Al-Mutas im
(r. 833–842) is said to have constructed 172 acres of gardens at Sāmarrā, see Moynihan, Paradise
as a Garden, p. 40.
49. e.g. al-Muqtadir’s Dār al-Shajara and his ornate silver tree with its mechanical birds, see Lassner,
Topography, p. 88. For another garden majlis, see Ibn al-T iqtaqā, al-Fakhrı̄, p. 167.
50. Al-Masūdı̄, Murūj al-Dhahab, vol. V: p. 227. See also ibid. vol. IV: p. 229 for Ibrāhı̄m b.
al-Mahdı̄’s garden in his house; and al-Is fahānı̄, Aghānı̄, vol. IX: pp. 318–319 for al-Mutazz’s
favourite garden for drinking.
214 D. P. Brookshaw
51. See al-H us rı̄, Zahr al-Ādāb, vol. II: pp. 220–221 and T. Bauer (1998) Liebe und Liebesdichtung in
der arabischen Welt des 9. und 10. Jahrhunderts (Wiesbaden), pp. 226–227, 236, 238–239. Poems
on flowers, gardens and spring (especially those of al-S anawbarı̄, d. 945–6) were popular at the
H amdānid court in Aleppo, see G. Schoeler (1974) Arabische Naturdichtung: die Zahrı̄yāt,
Rabı̄ı̄yāt und Raud ı̄yāt von ihren Anfangen bis as-S anaubarı̄: eine gattungs-, motiv- und stilge-
schichtliche Untersuchung (Wiesbaden), pp. 273–341. For an example of garden imagery in
medieval Persian prose, see Muı̄n al-Dı̄n Yazdı̄ (1947) Mavāhib-i Ilāhı̄ dar Tarı̄kh-i Āl-i
Muz affar, Ed. Saı̄d Nafi¯sı̄ (Tehran), p. 11. For medieval Hebrew garden poems, see Scheindlin,
Wine, Women and Death, pp. 37–45.
52. See e.g. Abū Hiffān, Akhbār Abı̄ Nuwās. pp. 37–39.
53. See Al-Masūdı̄, Murūj al-Dhahab, vol. IV: pp. 226–227 (al-Raqqa) and ibid. p. 205 (T ı̄zanābād).
54. Christian monasteries (especially in the Arab lands) and Jewish and Zoroastrian taverns (both in
Abbāsid Iraq and medieval Iran) provided secondary settings for more intimate majālis. Abū’l-
H asan al-Shābushtı̄ in his Kitāb al-Diyārāt (Ed. G. Awwād (Baghdad, 1966)), mentions over 140
such monasteries.
55. For praise of Ūljāytū’s cultivation of gardens on the arid slopes of Fattāh ābād, see al-Qāshānaı̄,
Tarı̄kh-i Ūljāytū, pp. 116–117.
56. Moynihan, Paradise as a Garden, p. 39. Pools were constructed in gardens for bathing, see Niz āmı̄
Ganjavı̄ (1936) Haft Paykar, Ed. V. Dastgirdı̄ (Tehran), p. 299.
57. Moynihan, Paradise as a Garden, p. 39. The image of a lush, paradisal garden no doubt predates
the Qur’ān. Verdant, non-malarial gardens (such as those at at-T āif) would have been familiar
to pre-Islamic Arabs.
58 Meisami, ‘Palaces and Paradises’, p. 24. In Persian poetry, gardens are often described as rivalling
the garden of heaven (bāgh-i bihisht) or the mythical Garden of Iram (Bāgh-i Iram), see e.g.
Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, p. 247.
59 One extant dramatic example of a desert garden is the Bāgh-i Shāhzāda situated in the kavı̄r (salt
desert) outside of Māhān in southern Iran, see Khansari et al., The Persian Garden, p. 16.
60 See Bombaci, Kūfic Inscription in Persian Verses, p. 32: ‘The Palace, like Ghaznavid royal palaces
in general, was more of a “royal city” and comprised ministerial offices, soldiers quarters, and
gardens. Together with the bazaar situated in front of it, the mosque and the minaret, it made up
a stately monumental complex’. See also T. Allen (1983) Timurid Herat (Wiesbaden), pp. 51–52:
The Bāgh-i Jahān-ārā at Herat housed a dozen buildings, including pavilions, government offices,
the main residence, a large reservoir bordered by four kiosks and a meadow. This pattern
continued under the S afavids: the walled Bāgh-i Fı̄n, located at a considerable distance outside
of Kāshān on the edge of the salt desert, houses a central viewing pavilion, an expansive h aramsarā
and two h amāms, see D.N. Wilber (1962) Persian Gardens and Garden Pavilions (Tokyo), pp.
221–224.
61. See e.g. Sharaf al-Dı̄n Alı̄ Yazdı̄ (1957) Z afarnāma, Ed. M. Abbāsı̄ (Tehran), vol. II: p. 13.
62. Clavijo, Embassy to Tamerlane, p. 209: ‘We were shown in one [palace] that we visited a great
banqueting hall which Timur was having built … beyond the same they were laying out a great
orchard in which were planted many and diverse fruit trees, with others to give shade. These
stood round water tanks, beside which there were laid out fine lawns of turf. This orchard was
of such an extent that a very great company might conveniently assemble here, and in the summer
heats enjoy the cool air beside that water in the shade of these trees.’
63. See L. Golombek and D. Wilber (1988) The Timurid Architecture of Iran and Turan (Princeton),
vol. I: p. 182: ‘Probably the Timurid gardens were used in both seasons [summer and winter],
but that in winter or late fall, tents were pitched in the gardens to supplement the airy pavilions
intended more for summer use.’ On the pictorial depiction of Persian and Mughal gardens, see
M. A. De Angelis and T. W. Lentz (1982) Architecture in Islamic Painting: Permanent and
Impermanent Worlds (Cambridge, MA), pp. 27–28. For descriptions of festive celebrations in
gardens, see Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 359, 697. For examples of Ghaznavid poems composed for
Sada, Īd-i Fitr and Mihragān, see Farrukhı̄, Dı̄vān, pp. 48–51, 104–105, 388–389, respectively.
64. See Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 197, 374, 460, 735; al-Qāshānı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Ūljāytū, p. 52; and Q. Ghanı̄
(1942) Bah th dar Āthār u Afkār u Ah vāl-i H āfiz (Tehran), p. 439.
65. See Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 343, 645, 651 and Clavijo, Embassy to Tamerlane, pp. 226–227.
66. Mah mūd of Ghazna was buried in the Bāgh-i Pı̄rūzı̄. Interestingly, H āfiz was buried in his
favourite meadow, Mus allā, outside of Shiraz. Some Abbāsid caliphs were buried within the
confines of their palace complexes, see e.g. al-S ūlı̄, Kitāb al-Awrāq, pp. 460, 555.
67. See e.g. Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, p. 207.

68. For a poetic description of a majlis held in a garden, see Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 236.
69. Schlumberger, Lashkari Bazar: Une Résidence Royale Ghanévide, vol. 1A: pp. 80–81.
70. Moynihan, Paradise as a Garden, p. 49.
71. See Moynihan, Paradise as a Garden, p. 73 and Wilber, Persian Gardens and Garden Pavilions, p.
57
72. Moynihan, Paradise as a Garden, p. 49: ‘… it was a change from an inactive to an active use: from
a mere background or place to observe idealized nature, the garden became a place for activities.
This functional change led to the expansion of the conventional garden design. The gardens built
by the nomadic Central Asians combined features of the Pairidaeza with the design of palace
gardens to create extended chaharbaghs that could be used as royal encampments.’
73. See Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 41: Bāgh-i Shādyākh; pp. 54, 148: Bāgh-i Adnānı̄; pp. 329, 736,
890–891: Bāgh-i Fı̄rūzı̄; pp. 343, 459–460, 690: Bāgh-i S ad Hizāra; pp. 343, 712: Bāgh-i
Mah mūdı̄; p. 434: Bāgh-i Ghaznı̄n; and p. 645: Bāgh-i Buzurg. In the Ghaznavid period, private
bāghs also served as venues for royal majālis, see ibid. p. 197 for the garden of Khāja Alı̄ Mı̄ka¯ı̄l.
The early Ghaznavids also maintained many kiosks, see ibid. p. 148: Sarā-yi Adnānı̄; pp. 355,
460: Kūshk-i Mah mūdı̄; p. 374: Kūshk-i Dawlat; p. 460: Kūshk-i Sapı̄d; pp. 645, 651: Kūshk-i
Dar-i Abd al-Alā; pp. 651–652: Kūshk-i Masūdı̄; p. 659; Kūshk-i Dasht-i Lagān; and p. 697:
Kūshk-i Naw. For a poem describing the garden (bāgh), palace (kākh), audience chamber (majlis)
and lake (daryācha) of the Kākh-i Naw, see Farrukhı̄, Dı̄vān, pp. 53–55.
74. A. Bombaci (1959) ‘An Introduction to the Excavations at Ghazni (Summary Report on the
Italian Archaeological Mission in Afghanistan)’, East and West, 10, p. 19.
75. Scerrato, ‘The First Two Excavation Campaigns at Ghazni’, p. 43; also Bombaci, ‘An Introduc-
tion to the Excavations at Ghazni’, p. 20. See also Abū Nas r al-Utbı̄ (1870) Tarı̄kh al-Yamı̄nı̄,
vol. II (Cairo), p. 300.
76. Mufad d al b. Sad al-Māfarrūkhı̄ (1933) Mah āsin Isfahān, Ed. J. Tihrānı̄ (Tehran) pp. 53–54.
77. Ibid. p. 54.
78. Ibid. p. 55. The trees of the garden are like graceful, young ladies dressed in festive garments
(ka-awānis al-ghı̄d al-mutazayyināt bi-malābis al-ı̄d).
79. Ibid. p. 56.
80. Ibid. pp. 52–53. See ibid. pp. 57–58 and 61 for poetry in praise of the Qas r al-Mughı̄ra and its
light-shedding gardens where wine is passed round by the nadı̄ms and which are more beautiful
than Paradise (al-Khuld) or Eden (Adan).
81. Ibid. p. 59.
82. O. Grabar (1978) ‘Palaces, Citadels and Fortifications’, in: Architecture of the Islamic World its
History and Social Meaning. Ed. G. Michell (London), p. 77.
83. Sayf b. Muh ammad al-Harawı̄ (1944) Tarı̄khnāma-yi Harāt, Ed. M. Z. al-S iddı̄qı̄ (Calcutta), p.
780.
84. Ibid. pp. 440, 747–748, 780.
85. Allen, Timurid Herat, p. 48. The Tı̄mūrids also rejuvenated old Muz affarid gardens in Yazd,
which were concentrated on the periphery of the city and resembled (on a smaller scale) those of
the Tı̄mūrid period. see Golombek and Wilber. Timurid Architecture, vol. I: p. 179–180. See also
J. Aubin (1957) ‘Le mécénat timouride à Chiraz’, Studia Islamica, 8, pp. 71–88, esp. 76 for Mı̄rzā
Iskandar’s embellishment of Takht-i Qarācha situated to the north of Shiraz proper. For a note
on Būyid garden palaces at Shı̄rāz, see Ibn al-Balkhı̄ (1912) Description of the Province of Fars in
Persia at the Beginning of the Fourteenth Century A.D., trans. G. Le Strange (London), pp.
316–317.
86. O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 11.
87. Allen, Timurid Herat, p. 22. See also Golombek and Wilber, Timurid Architecture, vol. I: p. 178:
‘By the close of the Timurid age, a broad band of walled residential estates … lay between Herat’s
ancient walls and the ridge of the north hills of the city. This was the private world of the Turkish
military aristocracy, in which its members lived, feasted, did business and held court.’
88. For the growth of Tabriz under the Mongols, see H . Mustawfi¯-Qazvı̄nı̄ (1913) Nuzhat al-Qulūb,
Ed. G. Le Strange (Leiden), p. 76.
89. Golombek and Wilber, The Timurid Architecture of Iran and Turan, vol. I: p. 182: ‘Before the
Mongol period, palace life centered on a large permanent architectural complex, often with
adjoining gardens and their pavilions. At some moment, the garden itself became the princely
residence.’ This process is evidently underway in the Īlkhānid period, see Blair, ‘The Ilkhanid
216 D. P. Brookshaw
Palace’, p. 239: ‘… the Ilkhanids were transhumanists [sic] who migrated annually between
winter and summer quarters … The royal entourage formed a giant tent-city, and the tents for
the royal family were particularly large and splendid.’
90. Moynihan, Paradise as a Garden, p. 49.
91. Gronke, M. (1992) ‘The Persian Court between Palace and Tent: from Timur to Abbas I’, in:
Timurid Art and Culture: Iran and Central Asia in the Fifteenth Century, Eds L. Golombek and M.
Subtelny (Leiden), p. 19: ‘The court moved frequently, its movements dictated by military and
political necessity. It is very likely that artists and scholars, and certainly chroniclers and poets,
stayed with the camp in order to record the sovereign’s campaigns and recite their poems at feasts
and banquets.’ See also D. Wilber (1979) ‘The Timurid Court: Life in Gardens and Tents’, Iran,
17, p. 128: ‘All across Asia, the nomadic way of life died hard among the settled peoples, and one
of its traditions survived in the way rulers chose to move with their courts to enjoy favourable
climates and pleasant places.’ Tı̄mūr himself often held court in a ‘tent city’ pitched in extramural
gardens, see Clavijo, Embassy to Tamerlane, pp. 226–227. Samarqand, although chosen by Tı̄mūr
as his capital, was never really his residence; he never gave up his royal camp located in gardens
beyond the city walls, see Gronke, ‘The Persian Court between Palace and Tent’, p. 19.
92. See Wilber, ‘The Timurid Court’, pp. 130–133 on huge Timurid tents and their pictorial
depiction. See also H āfiz Abrū (1970) A Persian Embassy to China being an Extract from Zubdatu’t
Tawarikh, trans. K.M. Maitra (New York), p. 20: ‘… a huge platform of the size of one Jarib had
been constructed … There was a wooden kiosk put up there provided with a canvas awning in
such a way that the extent of one Jarib of ground had been completely shaded off by it.’ The
Mongol ruler Qāān’s ‘court’ consisted of a golden throne (kursı̄) erected before his royal tent
(bārgāh), see Alā al-Dı̄n Juvaynı̄ (1912) Tarı̄kh-i Jahān-gushā, Ed. M. Qazvı̄nı̄ (Leiden), part I:
pp. 173–174.
93. e.g. the Bāgh-i Shahr in Herat.
94. See Golombek and Wilber, Timurid Architecture, vol. I: p. 174 for a catalogue of the numerous
Tı̄mūrid garden estates at Samarqand.
95. See Bābur (1996) The Baburnama: memoirs of Babur, prince and emperor, trans. and Ed. W.M.
Thackston (Washington, DC), p. 71 for a map of Samarqand and its ‘green belt’ of royal gardens
and meadows. Compare this with the map of Herat and its gardens located beyond the city gates,
ibid. p. 237. See also Clavijo, Embassy to Tamerlane, p. 286: ‘Among these orchards outside
Samarqand are found the most noble and beautiful houses, and here Timur has his many palaces
and pleasure grounds. Round and about the great men of government also here have their estates
and country houses, each standing within its orchard: and so numerous are these gardens and
vineyards surrounding Samarqand that a traveller who approaches the city sees only a great
mountainous height of trees and the houses embowered among them remain invisible.’ Tı̄mūr
sought to create a permanent yaylāq (summer pasture) at Samarqand, see O’Kane, Timurid
Architecture, p. 105: ‘… in his gardens Tı̄mūr could realise all the pleasures of these streams and
meadows, moving at caprice from one to the other, staying either in tents, or in pavilions with the
attendant values of urban civilisation close at hand.’
96. See Bābur, Baburnama, p. 84 for the avenue of poplar trees uniting the Bāgh-i Dilgushā with
Samarqand city proper. Lashkarı̄ Bāzār was a sort of ‘urban satellite’ joined to the commercial and
religious centre of Bust by an avenue, several kilometres in length, lined with shops and houses,
see J. Sourdel-Thomine (1977) ‘Art et grandeur dynastique dans I’orient islamique du XIIe
siècle’, Revue d’Etudes Islamiques, 45, pp. 10, 16. See also Rashı̄d al-Dı̄n Fad lallāh (1959) Jāmi
al-Tavārı̄kh, Ed. B. Karı̄mı̄ (Tehran), p. 641–642 for a private thoroughfare (kūcha) built to link
Qāān’s urban and country palaces.
97. In newly-conquered regions, ‘Turkic’ kings appear to have opted for urban residences over bāghs,
see al-Māfarrūkhı̄, Mah āsin Isfahān, p. 81–82: the Dār al-Imāra was built within the city walls.
See also O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 13: the Tı̄mūrid Mı̄rzā Iskandar who ruled Isfahan from
1409–1414 built an urban complex (comprising palace, madrasa, hospital and h ammāms) in the
city surrounded by a double set of walls and a moat. In Yazd he built a three-storey palace inside
the citadel and it was only later in Shiraz, perhaps when he felt more confident of internal and
external security, that he built a palace outside of the city proper.
98. Grabar, ‘Palaces, Citadels and Fortifications’, p. 68.
99. See Bombaci, A. ‘Introduction to the Excavations at Ghazni’, pp. 17–18.
100. Sourdel-Thomine, ‘Art et grandeur dynastique’, p. 9. On similarities between Lashkarı̄ Bāzār and
Sāmarrā, see ibid. p. 10 and Bombaci, ‘Introduction to the Excavations at Ghazni’, p. 5.
101. Sourdel-Thomine, ‘Art et grandeur dynastique’, p. 11.

102. See Abū H ayyān al-Tawh ı̄dı̄ (1970) al-Muqābasāt, Ed. Muh ammad Tawfi¯q H usayn (Baghdad),
p. 112 for a country jaunt where a group of cultured young men are aroused by the fine singing
of a pre-pubescent boy. See also Ibn al-Balkhı̄, Description of the Province of Fars, pp. 873–875 for
a catalogue of the most popular meadows of Fārs in the 14th century and Bābur, Baburnama, pp.
86–87 and 169 for meadow retreats on the outskirts of Samarqand and Kabul.
103. Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 689.
104. See R. Hillenbrand, ‘Mus allā: 2. Architectural aspects in the central Islamic lands’, in EI2. On
Ruknābād in the poetry of H āfiz and his contemporaries, see H. Massé, ‘Ruknābād’ in EI2.
105. Ibn Zarkūb, Shı̄rāznāma, pp. 22–23. Other cities are similarly described, see al-Māfarrūkhı̄,
Mah āsin Isfahān, p. 59: Isfahan is like the ‘gardens of Paradise’; Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 171:
Khurāsān is a ‘paradise’; al-Harawı̄, Tarı̄khnāma-yi Harāt, p. 102: Herat’s wonderful climate is
better than that of Iraq, it is ‘perfume-scattering, like the Garden of Iram’ and its sweet water
flows from the spring of everlasting life; and ibid. p. 103: ‘The sweet-breathed breeze of the
highest Paradise is perfumed every morn by the breeze of Herat’. See also al-Qāshānı̄, Tarı̄kh-i
Ūljāytū, p. 47 for a similar description of Sultāniyya.

106. Ibn Zarkūb, Shı̄rāznāma, pp. 23–24.
107. Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 30. See also ibid. pp. 402–403; Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp.
106–107: and O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 81. Gurgānı̄ (Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 473) describes the
suburbs of Marv glowing like Shushtarı̄ silk, dotted with majālis and wine goblets.
108. See Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 152 for a nashāt-i sharāb held in a tent after hunting and ibid. pp.
570–571 for festivities in the great royal tent, the Khayma-yi Buzurg.
109. See Juvaynı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Jahān-gushā, part I: pp. 21, 174; Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, p. 71; and
Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 317.
110. See Northedge, ‘The Palaces of the Abbasids at Samarra’, pp. 52–56. On Umayyad and Būyid
hunting lodges and country estates, see Grabar, ‘Palaces, Citadels and Fortifications’, pp. 76–77.
See also Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 659 and H āfiz Abrū (1999) Jughrāfiyā-yi H
āfiz Abrū, Ed. S . Sajjādı̄
(Tehran), vol. 2: pp. 147–148 for similar medieval Persian lodges.
111. Scerrato, ‘The First Two Excavation Campaigns at Ghazni’, p. 31. For Scerrato (ibid. p. 41)
Lashkarı̄ Bāzār represents a ‘peripheral expression’ of Ghaznavid architecture, a residence for
hunting parties that was located near the military quarters. See also Bombaci, ‘An Introduction
to Excavations at Ghazna’, p. 7.
112. Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 118, 168. Royal thrones were often lavishly adorned, see
al-Qāshānı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Ūljāytū, p. 47 for a throne constructed from aloes-wood, teak, gold, ebony
and ivory. See also Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 713–714 for a description of a magnificent golden
throne.
113. Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 310–311.
114. A. Northedge, ‘An Interpretation of the Palace of the Caliph’, p. 145 and p. 162, fig. 3.
Northedge suggests a raised terrace (48 ⫻ 40 m) at Sāmarrā may be the site of a royal garden
pavilion. See also Hamilton, Walid and His Friends, pp. 55–56, 60–63 on the pool pavilion at
Khirbat al-Mafjar.
115. e.g. Lassner, Topography, p. 89: one of al-Muqtadir’s pavilions was, ‘situated between two
gardens. In the center was an artificial pond of white lead surrounded by a stream of white lead
more lustrous than polished silver. The pond was thirty by twenty cubits and contained four fine
tayyāra boats with gilt seats adorned with brocade work’.
116. See Northedge, ‘The Palaces of the Abbasids at Samarra’, p. 44 for the archaeological evidence
for twin tower pavilions at al-Āshiq in Sāmarrā.
117. Ibid. p. 63.
118. Northedge. ‘The Palaces of the Abbasids at Samarra’, p. 63.
119. Tı̄mūrid Herat was dotted with them, see Golombek and Wilber, Timurid Architecture, p. 28.
120. See al-Māfarrūkhı̄, Mah āsin Isfahān, p. 65 for a garden poem composed at a majlis held in the
spring in a pavilion surrounded by pleasure-grounds where the trees are swaying in the breeze like
drunks moved by the melody of the strings. On the viewing of ornate exteriors, see O’Kane,
Timurid Architecture, p. 104.
121. This small, two-storied octagonal building was set in a modestly-sized garden and decorated with
battle scenes, see O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, pp. 299–300. In Arabic tarab denotes any emotion
(from joy to grief), although in Persian it is most frequently employed to express a positive
emotion brought about by listening to music.
218 D. P. Brookshaw
122. See e.g. al-Māfarrūkhı̄, Mah āsin Isfahān, p. 63; Farrukhı̄, Dı̄vān, p. 130; al-Harawı̄, Tarı̄khnāma-
yi Harāt, p. 780; Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 60, 63, 254; Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 91;
Rashı̄d al-Dı̄n, Jāmi al-Tavārı̄kh, pp. 477–479; Juvaynı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Jahān-gushā, part I: p. 193; and
Mustawfi¯-Qazvı̄nı̄, Nuzhat al-Qulūb, pp. 76–77.
123. O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 13. See also S. Redford (1993) ‘Thirteenth-century Rum Seljuq
Palaces and Palace Imagery’, Muqarnas, 23, p. 220 for a large, two-storey kiosk with balconies
facing out in three directions over the town.
124. e.g. Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, p. 63: the lofty pavilion raises Numān’s name higher than the
moon. On royal buildings as expressions of princely power, see Grabar. ‘Palaces, Citadels and
Fortifications’, pp. 65–79 and Sourdel-Thomine, ‘Art et grandeur dynastique’, p. 5.
125. See e.g. Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 64, 114–115; Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 171: and
O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 12.
126. In fine weather, wine parties appear to have spilled over from the kiosk into the garden, see e.g.
Farrukhı̄, Dı̄vān, pp. 390–391 for a poem describing the kiosk and garden of Mah mūd’s younger
brother, Yūsuf.
127. Meisami, ‘Ghaznavid Poets’, pp. 3–4. See also Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, p. 64 for a pavilion
with a river on one side, a village on the other, an open plain (bādiya) in front and a meadow
(marghzār) behind.
128. Some garden pavilions were twelve-sided, others four-sided (these were, perhaps, earlier ones, see
Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, p. 64). Most kiosks incorporated a large, often domed central space
(not unlike palace audience halls, although on a smaller scale), see O’Kane, Timurid Architecture,
pp. 12–13.
129. See e.g. Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 135–137 for a majlis held on the first day of winter in
a royal tābkhāna heated by a fire of sandalwood and aloes where guests eat fresh fruits, drink wine
and listen to music whilst gazing out onto the snow-covered garden.
130. See Redford, ‘Thirteenth-century Rum Seljuq Palaces’, p. 220 for a two-storey pavilion built next
to a stream and equipped with pipes to bring water to a pool in the second storey.
131. See e.g. Khansari et al., The Persian Garden, pp. 117–118; O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 13;
Hamilton, Walid and His Friends, pp. 55–56; and Meisami, ‘Palaces and Paradises’, p. 40. Some
Saljūq kiosks were also built at the edge of lakes and attached to piers from which guests might
take boating excursions to secluded islands, see Redford, ‘Thirteenth-century Rum Seljuq
Palaces’, p. 220.
132. e.g. Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 294, 352.
133. See Wilber, Persian Gardens and Garden Pavilions, pp. 45, 49.
134. e.g. Juvaynı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Jahān-gushā, part I: p. 170.
135. See Bābur, Baburnama, p. 288: ‘On Thursday the twenty-first we had a large, round platform
made on the outcropping of the mountain where a garden had been laid out … On Saturday the
twenty-third, saplings of plane trees and willows were planted together above the round platform.
At midday there was a wine party. At dawn the next day we had a morning draught on the new
platform.’
136. See ibid. p. 392.
137. See Clavijo, Embassy to Tamerlane, p. 272 for Tı̄mūr’s gold and blue painted transportable
wooden prayer kiosk. See also Sourdel, ‘Questions de Cérémonial’, p. 129.
138. See e.g. Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 571; O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 11; and Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n,
pp. 54, 90, 324–325, 503.
139. See Meisami, ‘Palaces and Paradises’, p. 29.
140. The buildings in the Bāgh-i Shādyākh were draped in textiles (farsh) by Masūd, see Bayhaqı̄,
Tarı̄kh, p. 41. See also Clavijo, Embassy to Tamerlane, p. 228.
141. Larger palaces appear to have taken decades to construct, see Clavijo, Embassy to Tamerlane, p.
207. When Abū Ish āq ordered an ayvān like that of Kisrā (at Madāin) be built in Shiraz, the
Shı̄rāzı̄s donned their best clothes and set to work with silk-lined buckets and silver pickaxes, see
Ghanı̄, Bah th dar H āfiz vol. I: pp. 139–140. Many Persian audience halls appear to have been
modelled (at least in spirit) on the great arch at Ctesiphon, see H āfiz Abrū (1971) Dhayl-i Jāmi
al-Tavārı̄kh-i Rashı̄dı̄, Ed. K. Bayānı̄ (Tehran), p. 68.
142. Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 652. The semi-mythical Qas r-i Khavarnaq took 5 years to build, see Niz āmı̄
Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, p. 59.
143. Bābur, Baburnama, p. 86: a building two stories high with columns of stone, four minaret-style
towers enclosing a chahārdara, a roofed or domed, permanent or temporary pavilion open on all
four sides.
144. Allen, Timurid Herat, p. 22, for the reconstruction of Shāhrukh’s Ayvān-i Īdgāh and the adding
of the T arabkhāna pavilion by Bābur at Herat. See also Juvaynı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Jahān-gushā, part II:
pp. 246–247 for the restoration and construction of gardens and pavilions at Arzanqābād outside
of Marv.
145. Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 355, 651.
146. Juvaynı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Jahān-gushā, part I: p. 192. See also ibid. p. 193 for a tall, painted pleasure
palace built by Qāān and furnished with multi-coloured carpets and ibid. p. 194 for his Khitayan
summer pavilion, whose walls were made of latticed wood and whose ceiling was of gilded cloth.
147. e.g. al-Qāshānı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Ūljāytū, p. 46 and Rashı̄d al-Dı̄n, Jāmi al-Tavārı̄kh, p. 639.
148. Farrukhı̄, Dı̄vān, p. 129.
149. Yazdı̄, Z afarnāma, vol. I: pp. 571–572.
150. For references to gilt tiles or bricks, see Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 115, 172; and Gurgānı̄,
Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 156. See also al-Qāshānı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Ūljāytū, p. 46 for a tall, square citadel clad
with turquoise ‘tiles’ (sang-i mı̄nā). For examples of 13th- and 14th-century turquoise Iranian
tiles, see M.B. Piotrovsky and J. Vrieze (Eds.) (1999) Earthly Beauty, Heavenly Art: Art of Islam
(Amsterdam), pp. 193–196. Painted plaster served as a cheaper alternative to glazed tiles, see
Redford, ‘Thirteenth-century Rum Seljuq Palaces’, p. 220.
151. See O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 12 for pavilions adorned with Chinese porcelain
(chı̄nı̄khānas). See Bābur, Baburnama, p. 236 for the Muqavvākhāna in the Bāgh-i Jahān-ārā at
Herat.
152. See Bombaci, ‘An Introduction to Excavations at Ghazna’, pp. 6–9 on the decorative use of
Indian timber, marble, gold, alabaster and lapis lazuli at Ghazna. See also al-Māfarrūkhı̄, Mah āsin
Isfahān, p. 83 for palaces with splendid reception rooms (majālis fākhira) constructed with
materials brought from Baghdad, Kūfa, Byzantium, Egypt, Bahrain, Oman, Khurāsān,
T abaristān, Azerbaijan and Armenia and M. Milwright, ‘Fixtures and Fittings: The Role of
Decoration in Abbasid Palace Design’, in: A Medieval City Reconsidered: An Interdisciplinary
Approach to Samarra, pp. 86–88 for the decorative use of Indian teak, Syrian marble and Afghan
lapis lazuli at Sāmarrā.
153. See e.g. Uns urı̄, Dı̄vān, p. 69; Farrukhı̄, Dı̄vān, p. 54; al-Harawı̄, Tarı̄khnāma-yi Harāt, p. 747;
and Bābur, Baburnama, pp. 84, 234.
154. See e.g. Yazdı̄, Z afarnāma, vol. I: p. 571 and Rashı̄d al-Dı̄n, Jāmi al-Tavārı̄kh, p. 478. The
S afavid Chihil Sutūn at Isfahan has battle murals on the interior walls and depictions of Persian
and European beauties on the exterior walls.
155. The young Masūd’s private Khayshkhāna (water-cooled siesta pavilion) was adorned with
paintings inspired by medieval erotica, see Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 145: ‘They painted this building
from the roof to the ground with images of men and women in various states of coitus (anvā-i
gird-āmadan), all naked. They had painted the whole of the book [on the walls], its images, stories
and poems. Similar paintings to these were sketched on the outside.’ Compare this with Niz āmı̄
Ganjavı̄’s description (Haft Paykar, pp. 77–79) of Bahrām’s private chamber where he retreats
when drunk to gaze on the princesses’ portraits.
156. Bombaci, ‘An Introduction to Excavations at Ghazna’, p. 13.
157. O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 62. Mawbad’s palace at Marv (Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 91) is
painted all over (doors, walls, roof and court) with Chinese paintings. See also Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄,
Haft Paykar, p. 59: Khavarnaq is painted azure, white and gold: and al-Qāshānı̄. Tarı̄kh-i Ūljāytū,
p. 47 for Ūljāytū’s royal silver-clad suffa painted with wondrous (human) forms (tamāthı̄l) and
other images (tasāvı̄r).
158. Al-Harawı̄, Tarı̄khnāma-yi Harāt, p. 747. For further examples of bizarre murals, see Meisami,
‘Palaces and Paradises’, pp. 26–27, 33.
159. Al-Harawı̄, Tarı̄khnāma-yi Harāt, p. 747. See ibid., p. 748 for a poem describing the various
images (tasāvı̄r and tamāthı̄l) that adorned this ‘lofty palace’ (bārgāh-i ālı̄). Al-Harawı̄ also
includes a further poem which emphasises the palace’s height and describes its ceiling adorned
with Mānı̄-esque paintings.
160. In Persian, the verb majlis ārāstan, to ‘set up’ a majlis literally means to adorn it.
161. Textiles and soft furnishings were equally vital to the formation of interior space, see Milwright,
‘Fixtures and Fittings’, p. 106. See also O’Kane, Timurid Architecture, p. 13.
162. Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, p. 254.
163. Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 324: the walls of the palace (ayvān) are draped with brocade (dı̄bā). See
also the Ta rı̄kh-i Sı̄stān, p. 178 for Rūdakı̄’s description of golden cloths and precious carpets
spread at the royal majlis.
220 D. P. Brookshaw
164. Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 115, 255.

165. See ibid. p. 181. Here I take bazmgāh to stand for set of portable furnishings (including a large,
valuable carpet or cloth) that is set out before a suffa as a venue for a majlis.
166. See e.g. Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, pp. 41, 79. On the use of silver and gold utensils at the majlis-i
bazm, see Melikian-Chirvani, ‘Silver in Islamic Iran’, pp. 95–98.
167. See Piotrovsky and Vrieze, Earthly Beauty, Heavenly Art, pp. 174–175 for a 15th-century copper
and tin bowl inscribed with three ghazals of H āfiz and ibid. pp. 184–187 for 12th- and
13th-century Persian ceramic bowls which may have been used to hold nuql at majālis.
168. See e.g. Juvaynı̄, Tarı̄kh-i Jahān-gushā, part I: p. 190; Farrukhı̄, Dı̄vān, p. 131; Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄,
Haft Paykar, p. 120; and Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, pp. 30–31, 503. Tributes of rubies, pearls and
precious metals were also scattered before and over kings at coronations, see Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄,
Haft Paykar, p. 98–99 and Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 91.
169. Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, pp. 51 and 503 and Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 233, 256, 258. The
use of scents and perfumes at the majlis was equally common in the Arab lands, see al-Is fahānı̄,
Aghānı̄ VI: pp. 75–76. Royal cities are often described as perfume-scattering or musk-infused, see
e.g. al-Harawı̄, Tarı̄khnāma-yi Harāt, pp. 102–104.

170. Al-Masūdı̄, Murūj al-Dhahab, vol. IV: p. 266. See Farrukhı̄, Dı̄vān, p. 131 for a palace ceiling
constructed from white aloes and red sandalwood.
171. For examples of 12th-century Persian incense burners, see Piotrovsky and J. Vrieze, Earthly
Beauty, Heavenly Art, pp. 230–233. See ibid. pp. 166–167 for an ornate 13th-century Egyptian
brazier and ibid. pp. 170–171 for a spherical 13th-century Syrian incense burner that could be
rolled along the floor to perfume a majlis.
172. Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 460. For another description of silver and gold majliskhānas, see Juvaynı̄,
Ta’rı̄kh-i Jahān-gushā, part II: p. 237. Pavilion walls may have been smoothed with camphor-
infused plaster for a more permanent scent, see Meisami, ‘Palaces and Paradises’, p. 27: ‘The tour
of the palace begins with the “camphor room” (kāfūr-khāna; probably a room whose plaster is
mixed with camphor)’; and ibid. p. 23: ‘The palace’s walls have been whitened with camphor and
polished with rosewater … Its ceiling is made of white balsam-wood and red sandal; in its earth
… are black musk and fresh amber.’
173. Extra roses were also brought from other gardens when necessary, see Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, p. 435
and Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 320. The scent of the beloved is often described in the poetry as
complementing that of the garden, see e.g. Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 156.
174. See Ghazi, ‘Les raffinés’, pp. 55–56 on the clothes and perfumes of the z urafā. For perfumed hair
see also Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, pp. 79, 101. In the Abbāsid period (Ahsan, Social Life, pp. 39,
56) guests were required to don the thiyāb al-munādama and the nudamā (Kushājim, Adab
al-Nadı̄m, p. 114) were expected to wear the libsat al-khidma (garb of service). In true z arı̄f style,
Bahrām dons robes the same colour of each of the seven domes when he holds his majālis, see
Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Half Paykar, p. 163. See also Ibn al-T iqtaqā, al-Fakhrı̄, p. 187 where the julasā
wear clothes dyed red, yellow and green.
175. E.g. Gurgānı̄, Vı̄s u Rāmı̄n, p. 50.
176. For an idea of the foods and drinks served at a Persian majlis, see Bayhaqı̄, Tarı̄kh, pp. 311–312
and Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 113, 236, 247–248, 258–259.
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On: 19 October 2014, At: 09:15

Middle Eastern Literatures

Palaces, Pavilions and Pleasure-gardens:

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Palaces, Pavilions and Pleasure-gardens: the context

1. The majlis as Performance Context

2. The Physical Setting: palaces, gardens and kiosks

Abbasids at Samarra’, p. 42.

67. See e.g. Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, p. 207.

101. Sourdel-Thomine, ‘Art et grandeur dynastique’, p. 11.

Ūljāytū, p. 47 for a similar description of Sultāniyya.

164. Niz āmı̄ Ganjavı̄, Haft Paykar, pp. 115, 255.

e.g. al-Harawı̄, Tarı̄khnāma-yi Harāt, pp. 102–104.

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